


We're Supposed to Be Happy

by churchofyourcurves



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: (but like in that really quiet sort of way), Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchofyourcurves/pseuds/churchofyourcurves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been years since they survived Silas U and all the ridiculous supernatural occurrences - this is supposed to be their happy ending so why doesn't it feel all that happy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Supposed to Be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> I put this up on my tumblr like a month or so ago, finally getting around to putting it up on here.

By the time Laura comes home it’s almost 3 in the morning and she falls into bed stinking of alcohol and cigarettes (although Laura hates cigarettes she will always go to the smoking area with the others because it’s preferable to sitting inside on her own). It’s a Friday night and after work drinks are standard so Carmilla isn’t surprised at Laura’s late arrival (plus Laura always drunk texts her from the bathroom, halfway understandable clumsy come ons, or ‘miss you’s that have been elongated to include 24 u’s).

Laura always invites her along but Carmilla knows, she  _knows_  that they will look at her and wonder why their colleague in her late-20s is dating a girl that looks like she’s maybe just turned 21. Or maybe they won’t, maybe they’ll believe that she’s just youthful. And maybe they won’t find her way of speaking pretentious for her apparent age. And maybe they won’t ask what she’s majoring in as if they know she should be at college.

Carmilla turns away from Laura, but Laura is sleepy and drunk and she follows Carmilla across the bed, ignoring the implication of Carmilla’s movements. She slings an arm across Carmilla and mumbles something into her skin. Something that sounds like 'love you’ or 'hey you’ and Carmilla isn’t sure which one she wishes that it is.

When she first thought about being with Laura her greatest fear was watching Laura grow old, watching her die. But this…

She feels like she’s stuck. Laura is getting older, Laura has her first real full-time job and even though she hates it she also has friends who hate it as much as her. She goes out drinking with them and they talk about their boss and complain about day-to-day inanities that Carmilla can’t understand. Carmilla is a part of her life, is very much a part of her life, but she’s also watching the other parts of Laura’s life drift away from her. It’s happening slowly, so slowly, but it is happening.

Laura jerks awake behind her, lips grazing the skin at the back of her neck. “How was your night?” Her voice is warm, thick with tiredness, but so, so warm. Carmilla thinks about her night, about reading Proust and arguing with dimwitted college students on philosophy forums, and her heart shifts.

“It was good, how was yours?” she asks quietly. She wants to know the answer, wants to know that Laura had a good time, but at the same time she doesn’t and it makes her feel like a terrible person. She wants Laura to say 'terrible, all I wanted to do was come home to you, I don’t want to go out ever again’ and it scares her so horribly, because she has never been one to want someone else so badly that it’s trapped them.

“Good. I played pool with Mitch and totally almost won.” There’s pride in Laura’s voice and it makes Carmilla feel so much jealousy that she has to ball her fists. She should be there, she should be watching Laura as she dances around the pool table and taunts other people, only to lose and recount just how close the loss had been.

“Congratulations,” she says and God it sounds bitter. It sounds so bitter that it leaves a foul taste in her mouth and she bites the inside of her cheek in punishment. She doesn’t want to make Laura feel guilty. That’s the last thing she wants.

Laura, half asleep and drunk, doesn’t notice her tone and just hums happily. “Next time.”

Carmilla stares hard at the wall of their shitty studio apartment and steels herself.

“Next time,” she echoes.


End file.
